Class: Fallen
by FallenR
Summary: Who was she? Why did she want the Grail? One thing is for sure: she wasn't mortal when she was alive.  No plans of continuation.
1. Chapter 1: Nicholas

"EXCALIBER!"

_Too fast!_

The hurricane from the sword's blade as if it cut straight through the dimension blazed, generating a blinding white light Fallen barely managed to look away from.

There was no wind, just raw power slamming squarely into its target, obliterating everything in its path.

The bright burst of white lasted only a few seconds before everything fell into near darkness again. It was minutes later that the witnesses of the event could make out the dull orange of twilight in the sky.

The cracked and broken ground split both ways to the north, where entire trees were destroyed and nearby ones left alight in flame.

Still, impossibly, there was a silhouette in the dark of the dust.

"It's not possible!" Saber panted, eyes widening in spite of the dirty quality of the air. Behind her, her master fell to her knees, clutching her chest in agony of the loss of mana in the strike against the opponent.

"Master!" a young voice coughed. The voice was followed by a distinct thud of weight falling against the packed earth. "Are you hurt?"

The young boy, already a prodigy in his age as a powerful magi remained silent. Abruptly, he began crying, sobbing loudly, unashamed as his servant began hushing him, not in disgrace, but in love. Motherly love.

The dust cleared to reveal the servant kneeling at his eye level, and an impossible sight of jet black wings protruding from her back. Damaged as it was from protecting the two from the blast, it was halfway around the sobbing mess that was the boy dressed in servant garb.

"Shush, Nicholas," the servant cooed, stroking at his dust covered face. She'd hoped that calling to him with his given name instead of master would urge him to listen to her words which he had ignored to seeing her broken wings. He quietened as she brushed his tears away gently. "Now, I need you to do something for me, alright?"

Hesitating, he nodded. _Talking is good, right? If she is talking, she is fine, right?_ He thought, almost desperately.

His servant could hear it as clear as it as if he spoke them out loud.

The wave of sorrow almost overwhelmed her.

_I don't want to do this again! _She mentally sobbed as she looked down, unable to meet the boy's eyes.

"What do you need, Miss Fallen?" he urged, anxious to help the woman – to him – who had protected him for the past month.

The youthful and light voice steeled her resolve.

"I need you to stop giving me your mana," She said, staring into his eyes. "I need you to cut all magical ties with me."

"What?" the boy reflexively said, then stark realisation dawned in his dark eyes. "You'll die! You'll fade away!" Though young, he had read enough to know that mana was essentially the lifeblood of all servants summoned from the other realm; without it, the woman before him cannot recover from her injuries. And cannot sustain existence.

"Nicholas, you will die if you keep giving me mana like you are doing now," she tried again, already seeing the helplessness surface every pore on the boy's body. "Stop, please," she tried to force the warmth she feel emanating from the boy's side of the astral bond away; severing the link. "Just do it for me. I promise you, I won't die, I won't leave your side," she prodded, lying in a ditch attempt. _It would hurt him, but he would recover from it eventually,_ she reasoned, almost unwillingly speaking the words. _After all, he recreated the philosopher's stone in the future._

The struggle was evident in the boy's darting eyes. "You promise?"

"I promise,"

Slowly, but surely, the warmth seeped from the servant's chest, flowing away to an unknown source.

"Thank you, Nicholas," she smiled, hugging him tightly around his shoulders. One last thing.

"Saber and your master," she called out, turning around to face the pair now standing across the field sideways. "My master will withdraw from the Holy War. I need your word to allow him peace in the rest of the course of this war."

The two woman, one clothed in medieval armour with an, oddly enough, dress beneath, and the master behind her dressed in a noble folk gown regarded the barely of age woman with the child, looking more like a mother embracing her child after years separated. They did not look like combatants in the Holy War, sans the servant's ebony black wings.

The noble replied, "You have my word. The boy shall also be raised in my care should other masters seek to destroy him."

"You too have my word," Saber repeated.

The servant nodded her thanks, coughing again, this time to a torrent of liquid ruby she could not swallow back in time. Blood flowed almost freely down her chin.

"No! You promised!" The boy's small hands grabbed at her face, forcing her to face him. He squeezed his eyes shut; concentrating on pushing his mana into her body but the servant felt no warmth in her core, just a void that was neither hot nor cold. Once the bond began deteriorating, she knew it would take more mana than the boy was capable of wielding to forge. It was impossible.

"Sorry," she murmured, her downcast gaze settled on the boy's wet face. Oh dear, he is crying again, she slowly wiped a knuckle on his cheek. She could feel the heaviness settling in; the moment of death.

She had only experienced it twice before, but it was horrifying enough to recognise itself. She let her eyelids sink in preparation for the inevitable, letting her forehead touch the boy's, exhaling a sigh, content to see the one she wanted to protect before she went. Then she fluttered away little by little, turning into dust in the evening breeze.

* * *

A/N:

Yes, for those of you who guessed it, Nicholas is really Nicholas Flamel, as a kid. And I was actually sort of aiming for Rin's ancestor for the master of Saber. I guess the attempt was pretty...half-*ssed... :(

Yikes, the entire thing is very rough, especially with some holes I think here and there =( Sorry, I am about half asleep right now... (1:18am local time XO ) Will redo if I have the time to do it.

I don't own Fate/Stay Night.


	2. Chapter 2: Untitled

"There wasn't supposed to be a Fallen class, was there?" The woman asked.

The barely of age girl hesitated, unsure if revealing her identity would affect the alternate universe prior to her inevitable demise.

"You will not answer the question even if I ask you as your master, servant Fallen?" The dark ember irises of Heslia stared at her coldly from the corner of her eye. Fallen felt the chilly hint of a command creep from the other side of their astral bond. Retaining the frown Heslia had not seen her remove once, she finally answered in an equally cold voice.

"You are in possession of something that has a connection to my class, no? It allows a magician to summon a class that was written off history." She had hoped the explanation would satisfy the woman.

"My heirloom?" Heslia murmured, touching the metal ouroboros that hung from the leather choker on her neck. Fallen nodded yes.

"Why were they written off?"

And, of course she was not satisfied to the vague information.

"There is a group of classes which were hidden due to the unpredictability of their power." Fallen said, striving to keep the reluctance from her voice.

"Others?"

"Others which I am not aware of." Fallen answered, "I lived in a time where magic was not a common subject of discussion."

Heslia turned in her backed chair to face the standing youth. Her passive eyes stared at Fallen's face, weighing. "You haven't told me which heroic spirit you are."  
Meeting the woman's gaze with her own, she contemplated the amount of information she'd have to tell her. Turning around, she said over her shoulder, "Not all of us were hero,"

Heslia straightened in her seat, almost in an anticipating manner. "An anti-hero then?"

"Either, yet neither." Fallen let the words blow out her mouth in a gust while dematerializing. Her voice faded out as she vanished and blended into the black of the dimly lit room.

* * *

The growing circle that was the round dagger speeding through the air towards Heslia stunned her.

_It was coming too fast!_

The glint of devilish silver was abruptly cut off by a wall of white.

The dagger impaled into the wooden handle of the broom, splintering the wood but not quite breaking it. Fallen had stopped the dagger from reaching its target.

Rider pulled on her chain almost furiously, losing the chance of striking the student suspected to be a 'master'. The broom now attached to the dagger flew out of Fallen's lax hand, swinging with the tug on the chain to the side, detaching and crashing through a window. The round dagger returned smoothly to Rider's hand.

"So you are a master," Rider mused, licking the blade of her dagger in a perverted manner, as if already tasting the Heslia's dying blood stained on it though it was still gleaming silver.

Fallen turned unhurriedly to the side, looping an arm around Heslia's arm to pull her up. The teenager was still stunned at her sudden appearance to save her even as Fallen brushed lightly at her shirt to straighten it. She was patting the dust off Heslia's skirt when she spoke, "What are your commands, master?"

"Fallen, seek out her master and destroy him." Heslia murmured to the silent girl who had turned to take ward in front of her.

"You know I don't kill," the surprisingly matured voice answered, reminding Heslia of the conversation they had earlier.

Glaring steely at the young girl named Fallen by her class, Heslia commanded again. "Then kill his servant."

"Done." Fallen was quick to reply, stepping forward, bringing her eyes to the armed woman wearing a blindfold. Battle stimulations were already playing in her mind's eye when Heslia issued the order.

All the while, Rider watched. The servant's body was shrouded with a thick black sheen that was almost impossible to see through with her inner sight, the legendary sight to see the souls of humans. The servant she was about to face had a soul that was shrouded by her power. A power that surpassed the capacity of her physical shell. Rider knew the girl was not to be defeated by her without aid.

Relaying her analysis of the new servant to her master, Rider inquired telepathically for commands.

Retreat. The single panicking command sent to her. Rider shifted in her slightly opposing crouch.

"My master has ordered my retreat," Rider spoke softly, a drastic shift from the crazed giggles she had emitted just moments before while anticipating killing an opponent master. It was a little more than unsettling to watch her slink from a mad, deranged lunatic to a almost civilized person in the span of a moment. Uncomfortable with the change, Heslia touched Fallen's wrist, telling her to not attack for the moment.

_She's deranged. Then he is probably also crazy. Crazy people are unstable people,_ Heslia thought.

Fallen remained silent, her eyes clear of any emotion, just the calculative look an aged warrior would have had.

"May I at least have the honor to know your hero type?" Rider politely asked.

Heslia slightly bobbed her head to signal her servant that she was allowed to do so.

Fore mentioned servant's face broke into a grin as she mocked bowed, announcing as if they were not participants of the Holy Grail war and moments away from cutting each other's throat, "I am of the Fallen class, pleased to meet you,"

Rider's head tilted in surprise, "Fallen? The legendary class?"

"Ah, yes. I am the first of my class in a long time, am I not?" Fallen grinned, knowing clearly that the legends among legends of the mysterious Fallen class of heros. "Don't worry, my existence as the dead famous has not come to pass yet, you wouldn't be able to find someone much like me in history,"

* * *

A/N:

I wrote this before the previous chapter so I hope this is delivered right (fingers crossed)

Recently my teacher seemed to have problems with my writing style which is more of this than the previous chapter (thank god!) but I really need an opinion on this. I thought I just settled on a writing style, but my english teacher is bashing my essays after I stopped trying to alter it. Oh wait, did that sentence make sense? Sorry, I am uploading this after I wrote chapter one so I am a little tipsy from caffeine and sleep deprivation. ( X( ) Anyways, I need honest opinion on this writing style, and maybe you can help me even further by comparing this two chapters with my other fiction. You don't have to, but if you do, advance THANKS! =D (Wait, was it "Thanks in advance"? Crap, I am really whoosy now...)


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